


How Donut Calms Down

by lorb



Series: Church's Market [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 05:30:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15879519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorb/pseuds/lorb
Summary: Caboose has a trick to calming down from panic attacks.





	How Donut Calms Down

**Author's Note:**

> This references some of the events from How He Became Frankenstein! If you want to read that fic before this, feel free, but also it only references the BIG event from chapter 3. Otherwise, here is the spoiler:
> 
> Donut ignites a gas explosion from a gas stove which causes a massive fire, hurting Grif, Simmons, and Donut. This is where he gets the large scar covering about half his head.

“Goddamnit.” The stove doesn’t light when Tucker turns the knob. He reaches for the box of matches left on the counter.

Donut follows Tucker’s fingers as they swipe the match next to the burner. The scar obliterating his face begins to itch as his mind reacts to the sound of the stove just like the triggering of a gun. He tries to leave before it has the chance to explode; before it has a chance to hurt anyone else. The jagged movement knocks over the chair he had been sitting in and the table shoves against Simmons who audibly startles from his newspaper. 

“Hey!” Simmons’ voice quakes with anger, his prosthetic arm reaches for the coffee cup that was unsettled. Donut’s eyes linger on the plastic fingers before bolting out of the breakroom.  _ Not again, not again, not again. _

“What the hell is his problem?” Tucker’s voice trails out, barely even registered as Donut’s mind races into the next layer of panic.

Customers watch warily as he barrels into a display of clearance snacks. “Sorry.” Donut mumbles to a woman and her son. His eyes are wide, he can feel her apprehension as she pulls her son into her. Donut swallows, there aren’t words to fix the situation. There aren’t magic spells that remove your stress and fear. There is only a door, opening and closing on the flow of traffic. Donut stumbles into the sunlight. 

“Croissant?” He recognizes the voice, but he doesn’t have time to help Caboose with anything right now. He has to figure himself out. He has to get this under control. His chest is tightening. His finger nails are scratching against his palm in a vaguely comforting and disturbing way. 

“No… no Caboose.” His voice doesn’t sound familiar. 

“Mr Croissant, I do not think you are ok right now.” Caboose’s hands hover over Donut’s shoulders, waiting for a sign if this will help or not. “Can I help you be ok?”

Donut feels like his body is going to explode if he doesn’t get this back on track. Caboose isn’t going to help this. Caboose can’t help this. What does Caboose know? 

“Sometimes, when I get really really nervous, I like to think about things I know. Like, I really like building robots!” Caboose nods and smiles, his hands still a few inches from Donut. “You like to bake, right Croissant? Maybe if you think about baking it will help you feel ok.”

Donut doesn’t want to think about baking. Baking is in the oven, the oven could hurt him, could hurt someone else. He feels a shock of wetness on his hands. When he looks down, he realizes that his nails have dug past the protection of his skin. 

“We could sit in the grass. Close our eyes. Take deep calming breaths.” Caboose cautiously lowers his hands onto Donut’s shoulders. When he doesn’t react, Caboose guides him to the patch of grass on the side of the grocery store. With soft pressure, Donut comes to sit in the grass. Caboose opens Donut’s fists and presses them into the grass. It stings for a moment, but there is something calming about it. He feels rooted to the Earth, as though he won’t go flying off it at any second. Caboose models a deep breath and closes his eyes. Donut follows suit. Their breaths become the only sound as the stress ebbs to a manageable level.

Caboose’s hand lifts from Donut’s, and Donut shoots his eyes open. “Can you keep it there?” His voice is smaller than normal, but much more familiar.

“Sure!” Caboose smiles like the sun and Donut feels a different kind of panic in his heart. Caboose wraps his fingers around Donut’s hand and they wait out the attack.

Donut realizes he could fall asleep lying in the sun and listening to Caboose hum.

“Are you feeling better, Mr Croissant?” Caboose taps his fingers against Donut’s hand softly.

“Donut.” He corrects gently and finally opens his eyes. 

“Agh.” Caboose looks genuinely upset. “I am very not good with names. Mr Donut, do you feel better.”

“Just Donut, or Franklin, not Frank though.”

“How about Fran?” Caboose scrunches up his face in though.

“I… I like that, actually. Do you have a nickname?” Donut realizes they’re still holding hands and he’s thankful for it.

“Sometimes people call me Big Mike.” Caboose says automatically. “I don’t like that that much though. I like being called Caboose.”

“Sure, I can work with that.” When Donut smiles Caboose smiles. “How did you know?”

“I’ve seen it before. You know, there was the time one of my sisters was gone for awhile, and she came back… different. And we had to find out what calmed her down. She just needed to be distracted. You had that look in your eyes, like Lizzie after her  _ incident. _ ” Caboose frowns. “She’s ok now, just needs lots of love and support. Like you, you need lots of love and support for your  _ incident  _ too.” 

“I guess I do, don’t I?” Donut sighs. 

“And I also know what I like when I get all nervous and worked up.”

“When do you get worked up?”

“Oh, just when people call me dumb… and when Church yells at me… and when Church calls me dumb, and useless, and is just really mean overall. Sometimes I just need a break from him, so I go sit out here for a bit, and once I’ve calmed down I remember that Church is my best friend and everything is alright again!” Donut frowns.

“You aren’t dumb, Caboose.”

“I know. I am very smart.” Caboose nods. “Sometimes people just make me feel very stressed out. When there are lots of people and they have lots of questions and I can’t answer them. What stressed you out, Fran?”

“Well… my  _ incident  _ really messed with my head-”

“I see that.” Caboose nods, pointedly staring at the scar across his face.

“Well, inside as well as out. But Tucker was messing with the stove and it just freaked me out. It really threw me back to the event. Like I was just a guy waiting to be shot right in the face by a big old explosion!”

“Ah, I see.” Caboose nods. “It’s always Tucker’s fault.” Caboose’s smile betrays a trickster well aware of what he’s doing. “You could try explaining to the guys. It might help. They’re way more understanding than you might think.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Donut turns his hand over to properly grasp Caboose’s hold. “Thank you, for all this, Caboose.”

“Well of course.” He shrugs. 

Donut doesn’t think, he simply leans over and kisses Caboose on the lips. He pulls back to see Caboose’s face turning a bright red.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I should have asked.” Donut’s hands fly to his mouth as he tries to figure a way to fix this.

“It’s alright, Fran.” Caboose lowers Donut’s hands and kisses him on the cheek. “Maybe we should find some other time to continue this conversation.” 

With that, Caboose smiles, stands, gives a quick though exuberant wave, and heads back into the store.

“Well gosh darnit.” Donut falls back into the grass and breathes out a wave of happy jitters.


End file.
